Empty House
by deathcurse
Summary: Despite the open and inviting nature of the house at the corner, no one had ever walked up the concrete path to the Yagami house. An odd girl, that Hayate Yagami; cheerful, well-spoken and always smiling, yet she lived alone.


Empty House

Of all the houses in Nakaoka Town, Uminari City, there was only one that always had its windows and blinds open for the golden morning breeze to flash off the inclined glass. This house was at the end of the street, surrounded by the same concrete wall as all the rest on the street and with the same row of hedges alongside one wall.

The residence of Hayate Yagami, the neighbours knew.

An odd girl, they concluded. Oh, a girl to be pitied, for sure, because everyone on the street had seen her at one time or another wheeling herself down the sidewalk to pick up groceries. A cheerful girl too, who always had a smile and a friendly greeting to anyone who passed her. But odd, because as far as all the neighbours knew, Hayate Yagami had been living alone in that large house ever since she had been nine years old. The bits and pieces of her life were cobbled together from little clues occasionally dropped into passing conversation by the brunette teenager herself on the few occasions that she left her house. It seemed that her parents had died in a car accident and that an absent uncle had provided her with the house. It could probably be inferred that Hayate had been paralyzed in the same accident, because how else could it have happened?

It would have been rude to ask.

The girl didn't seem to go to school nor receive any private tutors, but she was quite well-spoken, so the neighbours assumed that she must receive her education online like teenagers liked to do these days. In fact, the girl seemed to spend all her time alone.

How odd.

It wasn't like none of the neighbours wanted to be _bad _neighbours to the girl, mind. They said "hello" and "goodbye" in passing…but there was something uncanny about Hayate and her house. A sense of…foreboding, almost. The heartless might call it…dangerous.

Besides, it didn't seem like Hayate Yagami had any problems. How could a girl who always smiled and bustled about her kitchen (viewable through her ever-open blinds and windows) so energetically have any problem with making friends? If she was alone, then it must be by her choice.

Nakaoka Town's residents liked their privacy anyhow. Doubtless, Hayate Yagami was the same.

So despite the open and inviting nature of the house at the corner, no one had ever walked up that concrete path to the Yagami house.

**O**

Hayate hated waking up.

Because…her bed was _so _comfortable. She liked to use her thick comforter even into the hot summer—her favourite blanket was so soft and snug that even if Hayate had to keep her windows open at night for cool air she refused to switch to a lighter blanket until she couldn't bear the heat anymore.

Hayate yawned, stretching and rubbing her eyes. She rolled onto her side, blowing a brown lock out of her face. Her hairpins had gotten loose again.

"Good morning," Hayate said, pushing herself upright into a sitting position. She used to just contract her stomach muscles and sit up, but this way worked too. Patting around her, Hayate found her red hairpins and clipped them back in place, smiling as that errant bang was tamed once again.

"There we go!" Hayate shuffled to the edge of the bed, yawning again. She checked her bedstand clock—oh dear, was it 10:25 AM already? "You have to stop waking so late, Hayate," she admonished herself, but pragmatically…there was nothing she could do about it. Hayate had tried setting alarms and forcing herself to keep to a schedule, but after she had slept through four different alarms on her fifteenth birthday, Hayate had given up on that exercise. Now, a year later, she just left her curtains open to try and let the sun wake her up.

Even that didn't seem to be working anymore.

Hayate pulled her wheelchair over, bracing herself on her metal bed rail as she slipped over into her well-worn chair, carefully settling her limp legs into a relaxed position on the leg rest. She straightened and wheeled herself over to her closet, pressing the button on the wall to open the closet door. Due to the short height of the rack, Hayate's closet stretched the entire length of a wall, with all her clothing hung on clothes-hangers, but that was neat because after a lot of practice Hayate had perfected her morning routine.

"Whee!" Hayate called as she gave her wheels one mighty push and rolled down the length of her closet, snatching a black t-shirt, a green-gray light jacket, a pair of white sweatpants off the rod as she zipped by, dumping the items on her lap as she quickly grabbed her wheel pushrims to brake before she crashed into the wall.

Dressing required the process' usual gymnastics as Hayate shimmied and twisted into her clothes. Putting on socks remained the trickiest task, especially now that Hayate didn't have the abdominal strength to hold her legs up long enough for her to slip her socks on. Still, she had her ways—Hayate only took half an hour to dress in the morning, and she was sure that some other teenagers her age took much longer!

She dropped her pajamas in the laundry basket and wheeled back into her room, stopping by her desk to pick up her half-finished novel. Maybe Hayate would manage to finish reading it today. As always whenever she passed her desk, Hayate reached and picked up the beautiful book that sat on the deskshelf. It was such a gorgeous tome, bound in some kind of hard plastic-like leather, with intricate stitchery and engravings that looked like an old volume from a cozy library. The golden cross-design on the cover felt wonderful to run her fingers over, and Hayate did so, tracing the chains around the old book with interest. She was curious about the contents of the yellowed pages, but Hayate could never justify to herself the risk of ruining such a wonderful book by attempting to force the chains open. So she just sighed longingly and slid the tome back in its place, picking up her novel and slipping it beside the armrest of her chair.

"Breakfast, before you faint from hunger!" Hayate reminded, spinning her chair around and wheeling over to the lift that carried her from the upper level to the ground floor. Her gaze lingered on the wooden staircase that curved away from her—it looked so nice. Hayate had always wanted to walk down it at least once. But she only shrugged and wheeled into the open lift and hit the down button.

Her hands on her wheels kept her chair from shifting as the lift moved downward; strictly speaking, Hayate should put her brakes on to be safe, but going up and down several times a day, every day, made her take the shortcut of just holding onto her pushrims herself to keep her chair from jolting too much. Despite how embarrassing it would be to have to call the police to come and pick her up if she fell out, the risk was laughably negligible.

The lift growled to a halt on the ground floor, and Hayate pushed herself into the kitchen. Funny, how irony worked. Hayate spent a huge amount of time in the kitchen, cooking to pass the time, but it was the room she hated the most of the entire house.

She had a wonderful kitchen, stocked with an ample amount of pots and pans and various other cooking utensils. But that was the whole point.

It was really too large a kitchen for a single person.

But ah well! At least Hayate had lots of room to turn her chair around. And the stoves and sink were built low enough for her to use comfortably from her chair, so that was amazing. So Hayate wheeled to the refrigerator, and opened it, peering inside.

"Hm, what should I have today? Milk? Eggs? Or just some toast?" Hayate pursed her lips, thinking. She had enough bread for breakfast but none for a sandwich at lunch. That's alright—Hayate could just make curry rice or something. She had a craving for curry rice today. After breakfast, Hayate could make a shopping trip and get the week's groceries as well as more curry spices. Yes, that sounded good!

Hayate picked up a tray from the cupboard and placed it carefully on her lap. She lifted out a jar of strawberry jam and a carton of milk from the fridge, then wheeled backwards and pulled the bread from the bread basket and put that on the tray as well.

Her living room had too many couches, really. Hayate only ever used the one that faced the television, and it wasn't like she had a need for the other one since Hayate could only occupy one couch at a time. That was obvious!

Besides, most of the time Hayate just ate from her chair. Really, sitting anywhere to eat was the same. And the advantage that her wheelchair had over the couch was that Hayate never had to worry about her legs slipping off the couch cushion and causing her to tumble to the carpet! Cleaning spilled jam off pale pink carpet wasn't fun, as Hayate could attest to until she had gotten wise enough to cap the jam as soon as she had enough on the spreading knife to coat her toast.

Hayate should turn on the television.

"It's a bad habit to watch TV while eating," Hayate told herself.

She really should…

Or turn the radio on, at least.

Quiet mornings are peaceful though! Hayate couldn't let herself get into bad habits. That would be rude. Her parents had raised her well, from what little she could remember of them—

"I should read the newspaper!" Hayate said, quickly setting her tray down on the letterman table and pushing herself out the front door. Sure enough, the newspaper stuck out of the mail slot in the fence. The paperboy was kind—he bothered to actually put the paper inside the slot for Hayate, so that she didn't have to bend down and try to pick it up off the pavement.

Nothing majorly interesting in the newspaper. Hayate skimmed it as she went back inside the house, giving her wheels an extra push to get over the doorframe. It was too bad. Occasionally there would be reports of strange lights and mysterious happenings in Uminari City, and those always made Hayate think of magical girl animes and conspiracy spy thrillers, which helped eat away part of her monotonous days.

"Remember, no peeking at the horoscope until the end of the day!" Hayate placed the newspaper on the table by the phone. "You don't want to ruin your day by seeing how it's going to turn out, huh, Hayate?"

She paused.

It was a bit odd and unnerving, to hear her name said aloud. Hayate didn't know why, but it kind of was. Saying her name sort of…made her walls echo, a bit. As if saying a _name,_ any name, made her house seem larger and hollower.

"Finish breakfast," she said finally. "And go buy what you need for lunch."

There, now Hayate had a plan of the day. She had been skimping on that step, letting her lazy days outnumber her good ones. Discipline! Hayate needed to decide on what she was going to do for the day, and follow that schedule. No lazing about all day reading manga or novels! She usually studied her textbooks later in the evening, when she was so bored that even reading about mathematics or geography was interesting.

Hayate picked up her toast and bit into it.

The jam was sweet.

**O**

Hayate took a break from wheeling herself forward to pat her gloved hands together. The clapping eased the numbness from them and she quickly put her hands back on her pushrims so that she didn't drift and accidentally crash into someone on the sidewalk. Her fingers were stiff from the cold, and Hayate shivered despite wearing a thick jacket and her toque. She hadn't thought that it was such a cold day, but her bones were complaining from the chill.

Normally, Hayate would hum as she went home from the store. She liked bringing smiles to strangers' faces as she wheeled past. She didn't hum anymore, and hadn't for a few months now. It was hard to think of the mindless, happy tunes to hum, and Hayate needed all her breath to just keep pushing herself towards home, the pouches on the back of her chair weighed down with curry spices, soup cans and bagged vegetables.

Maybe Hayate needed to dig out her mechanized wheelchair again. She hadn't used it since she was a little girl, but if Hayate's arms were going to keep trembling from the simple motion of wheeling herself about, then maybe she had to… Hayate wanted to avoid that option as much as possible. It felt too much like giving in.

She didn't want to give in even a step.

Because if she did, Hayate worried that she'd give in all the way.

And even if it's just on principle, Hayate didn't want to do that.

"Halfway home," Hayate muttered, seeing a familiar dented lamppost in the corner of her vision. "Wait to decide things when you get home, that much is obvious!"

Suddenly, a girl stumbled in front of Hayate, off-balance. Hayate quickly clamped a hand on her left pushrim, swerving to the left. Luckily Hayate missed the girl. Unfortunately, Hayate yelped as she crashed into a lamppost, adding another dent in the shiny metal. Even worse, Hayate heard heavy clunking behind her, which probably meant that her soup cans had fallen out and were rolling to their escape.

"I'm so sorry!" The girl exclaimed, her red eyes wide with alarm. She turned to her friend, a brunette wearing the same high school uniform as her, and said, "Hurry, Nanoha, grab those cans! Arf, go get that one!"

"I'm sorry," Hayate apologized when she had righted herself. She watched Nanoha dashing down the block, scooping up soup cans as the girl Hayate had nearly run over bent down to pick up a slightly nicked can.

"No, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," the blonde girl apologized. "Oh, thank you Arf—" the girl took another can from the mouth of her reddish-orange puppy, holding both of them out to Hayate. "—I'm so sorry again! Um, would you like me to put them in your bag for you?"

"Thanks," Hayate said, spinning in place so that the girl could set the cans back inside the wheelchair pouch. She kept a careful eye out to not run over the tail of the girl's dog with her wheels, but the puppy wisely moved back to her master's heels out of the way.

"Fate-chan, I think I got them all," the brunette girl panted as she ran back, her arms full of soup cans. "Here." Hayate felt the back of her chair get heavier as the cans were carefully placed inside and the entire pouch rearranged to settle evenly. As Hayate spun back around, a red flash made her blink.

"Did your necklace just flash?" Hayate asked Nanoha, staring at the red gem that hung around the high-schooler's neck. It looked fairly large and expensive for a teenager to wear. Maybe the girl was from a wealthy family?

"Huh?" Nanoha glanced down, then looked up and smiled sheepishly. "Uh, it was probably a trick of the light. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Hayate assured, just as Fate glanced down at her watch and stared.

"Nanoha, we're going to be late—Mother asked us to be at the ship by noon."

Hayate looked at her own watch, and her eyebrows shot up. "By noon? You're going to be late—the docks are at least half-an-hour's bus that way." She pointed.

A puzzled expression flashed over Nanoha's face but Fate simply grabbed Nanoha's hand and nodded at Hayate. "You're right, of course. Please excuse us for running off. I'm really sorry again, are you sure you're alright?"

"Absolutely fine," Hayate cracked a small smile, and nodded her head to the side. "You two better get going."

"Bye!" The two girls dashed off, Arf keeping pace beside them as they ran back down the block.

Hayate watched them running for a moment, before she realized that she was blocking the sidewalk and the other pedestrians were just too polite to tell her anything. "Sorry," Hayate mumbled in general, turning herself and wheeling for home.

She hoped that those girls weren't going to be too late for whatever appointment they had to make. They seemed really nice. They looked like good friends. The kind of friends who stuck by each other through thick and thin, and never let the other be alone.

Hayate pushed herself along, feeling the steady, constant scrape of her wheels on the ground. Her arms trembled again, so she let herself glide for a bit, breathing hard.

When was her next appointment with Dr. Ishida? Hayate couldn't remember. She'll have to remind herself to check when she got home.

Getting home was easy.

Counting wheel spins always made the distance go by quickly. 645 pushes after the mid-way point for Hayate to get to her front door.

It took 739 pushes today.

Hayate had to stop to pant and breathe on her front porch as she put her head on her knees. She had less and less sensation in her legs as the months went by, although she hadn't been able to move them for years. It had been a long time coming when Dr. Ishida had finally told Hayate at her last check-up that they had to focus on preventing the spread of the paralysis. There had been no more talk about reversing the damage so that Hayate could—

"Open the door," Hayate said aloud, and fumbled for her house keys. After nearly dropping them twice, Hayate managed to unlock her door and wheel herself in and lock up.

"I'm home," Hayate called, hearing her voice echo down the halls.

She rolled up the little ramp into her hallway, moving towards the kitchen.

The cans went in the pantry, the spices on the counter. The vegetables went in the refrigerator, on one of the lower shelves. Hayate didn't have anything on the higher shelves except for bottled water when she wanted a cold drink. She used to be able to heave herself semi-upright to _just _reach the top shelf, but recently she had to settle with just using the lower shelves. But it was okay, since Hayate had the room if she grocery-shopped every week instead of every two.

"Curry rice," Hayate reminded herself, snapping out of her thoughts. She pulled out a pot and half-filled it with water, putting it on the stove.

She spun the knob beside the burner.

Gas hissed, bringing with it a sharp smell, but there were no flames.

"Hm," Hayate murmured, looking down. "The pilot light is out."

She kept looking down at the lack of flames as the gas hissed in a steady stream, her hand unmoving on the gas knob.

The barbecue lighter was in the second drawer by the sink.

Hayate let her hand drop from the knob. She pushed herself backwards away from the stove.

She turned and rolled her chair into the living room, letting the metal pushrims slide over and over through her fingers as she slowed down by the wall-length window. Hayate perched her chair half-over the threshold and drew the sliding glass door shut, easing back into the room to close it all the way.

The downstairs bathroom was next, and Hayate used an extendable metal hook to grasp and close the top bathroom window.

She huffed as she wheeled into the lift, hitting the button for the second floor. The ride had never seemed so long. When she reached the top, Hayate pushed herself into the guest bedroom, parking herself sideways against the low window to pull it shut. She pulled on the beaded chain to draw the curtains shut.

Hayate glided into her bedroom, silently moving over to the wall-length window and shutting all the cracked-open panes one by one. The curtains closed by a button control by the bedside. Just as she was about to roll out again, Hayate paused by her desk.

She didn't know why she felt that it was right. But she did feel that way, so Hayate braced her hands on her desktop and strained to lift herself up high enough to grab the chained tome. When she fell back into her chair Hayate was panting and slightly dizzy from the exertion.

"Got you," she said to the book, and placed it in her lap.

Hayate rolled back into the lift and hit the button for the first floor. She leaned her head against the backrest, her eyes drifting shut for a second. Her hands were loose on the wheels, so when the lift jolted to a stop Hayate's chair jerked forward six inches before Hayate managed to steady herself. As she moved into the foyer she paused in front of the telephone.

Hm, yes…Hayate probably should.

She hit _Speakerphone, _then _Redial._

The single number recorded there dialled, then rang.

And rang.

It was the weekend, after all. Hayate knew that no one would be there to pick up the phone.

"_This is Dr. Sachie Ishida. If you would like to leave a message, please dial 1. If this is an emergency, please call the hospital emergency line or—"_

Hayate hit one, and waited for the answering machine to beep.

"Hi Dr. Ishida, this is Hayate. I…I just wanted to let you know that…" Hayate paused, a headache starting to form between her temples. She shook that off, and continued, "…that I think I have to change my appointment. I'm really sorry. Thank you so much for always having so much patience with me, and for being so kind to me my whole life. Could you please do me a favour? It's not urgent, but when you get this message on Monday, could you please call my gas company and ask them to turn off the gas? I'm afraid that I'll…forget, and it's important."

Hayate didn't want anyone else to be in danger because of her.

What else should she say? Hayate didn't really know, and she was getting drowsy. She didn't want to talk so long that the answering machine cut her message short.

"Yes, if you could please do that for me…and, um…" Hayate's finger hovered over the _Speakerphone _button. A slight hesitation, then Hayate finished, "I'm sorry. Goodbye."

She hit the _Speakerphone _button. The call ended.

Hayate rolled into the living room, her hands dropping limply from her wheels as she glided the last few meters towards the sliding glass windows. Her chair rolled to a stop just before the edge of the light coming in through the glass, lighting the floor a glowing pink that shimmered occasionally with shadowy wisps. Vapour was less dense than air, and the sunlight traced the currents that flowed around Hayate's chair. She should close these curtains too, but yet…Hayate didn't want to stop looking out at the light. Hayate let out a breath and leaned the back of her head against the edge of her chair's backrest.

She still had a novel she hadn't finished. But she was tired, too tired to read right then.

Hayate laid a hand over the bound tome in her lap. She could feel the outline of the encircled cross insignia under her palm. By now, she couldn't smell anything at all, although her head and chest felt so heavy…Her head drooped forward and to the side, and Hayate sighed, her eyes drifting shut.

The light from the windows crept further towards her, finally engulfing the wheelchair.

The shadows lengthened.

Slowly, the chained book faded, turning translucent, then transparent. Then only an outline was visible in the air, before even that slowly faded into nothing.

Hayate's hand dropped onto her lap, still and unmoving.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: As one can see, this is an Alternate Continuity of <strong>_**Nanoha A's**_**, where the Wolkenritter never woke from the Book of Darkness to be with Hayate…and yet the Book continues to eat away at Hayate's life as she grows older. **_

_**I realize that the genre tag on the fic kind of spoils the ending ^^;;, but I'm guessing that either way, it's not that much of a surprise for my regular readers…**_

_**Thanks to Blissful Turtle, for her many comments and help in this final version of the fic!**_


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